Undercover
by rebelxxwaltz
Summary: The line between fantasy and reality becomes somewhat blurred when Walt and Vic go undercover as a married couple. Post season 3, Walt/Vic. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

_Hi, all! Here's something new. This was originally intended as a one-shot story and I've been working on it steadily for several weeks in the rare pockets of time I've been able to find. As it has now crept up over 6,000 words with a fair amount left to go, I decided to start posting it in parts. I have other reasons for doing so, too— for one thing, I have a serious case of shareitis. The urge to share is powerful, and I've got ants in my pants. :)_

_The first parts of this fic contain some mature subject matter, but are acceptably T-rated. Later portions, on the other hand, are quite racy and I will eventually have to change the rating to reflect this. I admit to a certain degree of selfishness with my posting strategy here, because I would like people to actually __**see**__ this fic before I change the rating to M and it is eaten by ffnet's filters. So yes. Be aware; mature content throughout, rating will rise._

_Hope you'll all enjoy it!_

_**x**_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part I**

"Ready?"

Walt did a double take at the sight of the blonde deputy leaning against the doorframe of his office. Her hair was loose, legs lengthened by high heels, and her leather jacket was in place. As his eyes raked over Vic's form he found that his mind was generating nothing but questions, some of them pretty damn complicated, with nary a simple answer in sight.

Through sheer force of will he managed to grind out a trusty "Yep," standing behind his desk.

Some of the questions were fairly innocuous.

Why did they always wear leather jackets when they needed to go undercover? He'd mainly done it because it was the only jacket Walt owned that he thought of as something he would wear off-duty— the irony of course being that the only time he wore it was when he needed to appear incognito while most certainly _on-_duty. Then Vic had started doing it too, and Walt didn't have the heart to ask her whether she was trying to match on purpose or if she simply hadn't noticed.

In the middle of the range of questions was something that had been a constant itch at the back of Walt's mind ever since they'd all sat down to plan their strategy for solving this case. Why was it that Vic automatically assumed that the two of them would be the ones posing as a married couple? Surely Branch was closer to her age range, and in some ways it would have made more sense for Walt to stay on the outside to coordinate both teams. And yet, he'd gone along with it. Which opened up another line of questioning he most definitely wasn't prepared for.

Last on Walt's list of queries and most certainly least likely to be asked or answered was this: just where, exactly, was his deputy concealing her firearm within that short, tight dress?

He shook his head to clear it of the inappropriate imaginings it had concocted. _She probably has a shoulder holster under her jacket, you idiot._

_**x**_

Two hours later they were perched at a dingy bar just inside the line with Cumberland County, and Vic was doing a bang-up job of making it look like she enjoyed cosmopolitans. Maybe she _was_ enjoying them— Walt thought she preferred dirty martinis, but perhaps even her choice of cocktail was undercover tonight. She certainly was taking their purported status as newlyweds seriously. The casual touches and the whispering in his ear, even if those whispers happened to be all business, had Walt wired hotter than he'd ever be willing to admit.

The wedding ring glinted on his deputy's hand as she leaned over to talk to the bartender, making a big show of taking a large sip of her drink. And wasn't that just the problem? Walt had never considered himself particularly effective at undercover. It was too easy to lose track of where the pretending ended and reality began. Vic wasn't married anymore, but the sight of that ring made him think back to how much he'd wanted her even when she _was_. He _still_ wanted her, in every conceivable sense, and the way she was wriggling up against him in that form-fitting turquoise dress was giving him… ideas.

As if on cue, her painted-pinker-than-usual lips pressed against the shell of his ear. "I think I got us in. You were right, it's the Dry Creek Motel."

Walt played into it, resting his hand at the small of her back as he nodded in the affirmative. Touching Vic seemed like such a natural thing, the swaying line of her waist fitting so perfectly beneath his hand as he slid it there. The material of the dress was lacy, but softer than it looked. She leaned her back against his chest as she finished the girly-looking pink cocktail, placing it on the bar next to his three-quarters-empty bottle of Coors. The length of Vic's body against his own made Walt wonder whether his choice of beers might not be the only questionable decision he'd make tonight.

They headed out, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm until they arrived at the black truck Walt had borrowed from Omar. Both of their vehicles were far too recognizable— undercover didn't tend to go so well if you showed up in a mode of transport emblazoned with departmental logos. Vic used his shoulder to help herself climb into the cab, and a flash of one long smooth leg left Walt wondering how women wearing skirts and dresses ever managed to get in and out of their vehicles without giving everyone in town a show.

The Dry Creek Motel, it seemed, had become an unusually remote destination for a particular subset of sexual deviants. It was surprising really, how often the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department dealt with prostitution and other sex trade related crimes— evidently the sparse population lacked an adequate amount of choice in hobbies. Walt found it perplexing, that people's appetites would bring them out to the middle of nowhere to engage in such a tawdry and emotionless ritual.

Apparently these days, instead of "If you wanna get laid, talk to the Indian at the Red Pony," it was "If you want to swap wives or join an orgy, get yourself an orange keycard for the Dry Creek Motel." And so they'd gotten one. Or rather, Vic had. Walt wasn't so sure how he felt about his deputy using her feminine wiles to gain access to an underground sex ring. For both of them. But he'd better damn well leave his reservations at the door because they were going to have to make this look good.

When they disembarked into the dimly lit dirt and gravel parking lot Vic skipped the arm-holding and squeezed herself in against him, and Walt had to bite the inside of his lip to contain the noise he almost made when he felt her hand snaking around and sliding into the back pocket of his Levis. She must have felt him tense up, because she leaned her face up next to his shoulder.

"Help—"

"—sell it. Yep, I know."

Figuring two could play that game, Walt pulled her in against him with his arm around her back and his fingers splayed at the curve of her hip. She shivered, and he absently reminded himself that it wasn't a cold night and she was wearing that suede leather jacket that he could feel sliding against the smoother sleeve of his own. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was affected by those unaccustomed touches…

**x**

After a short and casually observant stroll they found their assigned room, and Walt quirked an amused eyebrow at Vic as she struggled slightly with the keycard. She responded with a wry grin, peering at him from the corner of one smoky eye. Somehow Walt knew that they were both thinking about another night in Arizona, at another motel just like this one.

What had he said to her, when she helped him gain access to his room that time? _"And they say chivalry's dead." _Well, chivalry and all the noble convictions that went along with it most certainly _would_ have been dead that night if Vic had knocked on the connecting door for the reason he'd been contemplating. He had always gone to great lengths to deny his feelings for Vic, both the romantic and the more outwardly lustful, but in Arizona he had been ready to compromise his convictions. If she had been standing on the other side of that door as anything other than the consummate professional that she was, he knew he would have surrendered to those urges.

The door mechanism beeped and clicked and Walt was back to that mental conundrum, the inability to separate reality from the fantastical constructions of undercover. It was even harder now that they were alone— how was he supposed to act toward Vic while no one was watching them?

Vic stepped into the room ahead of him. He nearly walked right into her as she paused at the threshold of the narrow entryway, peeking around the corner. He steadied himself with one hand on the wall and one at her waist on the outside of her jacket, leather enticingly soft beneath his fingers. She was very still for a moment, and Walt's eyes widened as she turned slowly and reached her lips up toward his ear. What the hell was she doing? There was nobody here to fool, so why was her hand on his shoulder and the softness of her chest pressing against his arm? Walt was swiftly approaching panic mode at the sensation of her breath ghosting over his sensitive earlobe.

"Do you think the room is bugged?"

Oh. Right. Their eyes met for a moment and Walt tried to ignore how close their faces were. Resisting the impulse to swallow heavily, he ducked his head. His cheek was almost, _almost_ touching hers as he returned the gesture and spoke right into her ear.

"Doubt it. They're not professionals, just lucky amateurs."

Her grip on his shoulder tightened just for a moment as he spoke, releasing abruptly as though Vic had caught herself doing something she shouldn't.

Secretly satisfied, Walt leaned in again. "Let's take a look around."

She nodded absently, and he was sure her eyes were fixed on his lips for several seconds before she turned away. He really needed to start focusing on the task at hand, or this whole operation could turn into a very special type of disaster.

**x**

_There we are. Looks like Walt might be in a bit of trouble. Haha! Please do let me know what you thought of the introductory chapter of this little story. It always makes me so happy to hear everyone's thoughts and reactions! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hiya! Here is another chapter, since a certain someone requested it so nicely and my currently-nocturnal self actually managed to wake up before 11am. :)_

_This is likely the last installment that will squeak by with a T rating. There is some mature subject matter contained within. It may be a bit longer between this and the next update, but it will be along fairly soon. This is not a long story; I anticipate it will top out around 4 or 5 chapters._

_x_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part II**

They were able to determine with relative certainty that there were no listening devices or cameras in the room, which was a definite relief. It was easier to slip back into their roles as sheriff and deputy now that they knew they weren't being monitored, and they got down to the business of searching the room for other types of evidence. Walt noted the plastic hangers and slightly distressed ironing board in the tiny doorless closet. Vic was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed going through a binder full of motel information and takeout menus, chewing her lip as she flipped through the pages.

"Bingo," she said with conviction.

Walt paused in his fruitless rummaging, walking over to stand next to her. She had opened the rings of the binder and removed a slightly tattered sheet of paper.

"What is it?"

"A room service cocktail menu." She held it between thumb and forefinger, swinging it from side to side. Her lips were twisted sideways, head tilted in that way she always did when she found a piece of evidence she thought was important.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "There something unusual about that?"

"Come on, Walt. How many motels like this do you know who offer to deliver martinis and margaritas to your room? Place like this, you're lucky if you get clean towels and a minibar full of those shitty overpriced little liquor bottles."

"I guess you have a point. So what are we looking at?" He sat down next to her, intent on what she had discovered and not directly conscious of their proximity or the potentially awkward tension that could result from the two of them sharing space on a bed.

Fidgeting slightly as Walt leaned in to look at the paper, Vic cleared her throat and gestured to the neat column of items. "The drinks start out really simple and grow more complicated as you go down the list. See?"

He could feel her eyes on his face as he perused the menu. It was all Greek to Walt, who generally consigned himself to beer and the very occasional whiskey. Wine was something you drank on a date, and Christ knew he hadn't had a proper one of those in a while. Not since before Martha got sick— a few uncomfortable hours at the Red Pony with Lizzie Ambrose hardly seemed worth counting.

Shaking his head, Walt cleared away the bittersweet thoughts. "I think you're gonna have to translate. I'm, uhh, not exactly up on my Caramel Appletinis."

"Alright. So," Her eyes narrowed and Walt could almost hear the cogs turning in the burnished steel trap that was her investigative mind. "Look. The first thing on the menu is an Old Fashioned. Pretty unexciting drink, not often ordered these days— but they've described it as 'A popular standard that never disappoints.'." She flicked the paper with the nail of her index finger. "This is what you ask for if you're a lonely guy needing the standard services of a plain old lady of the night."

"Quite a leap of logic you're making here…" In spite of his skepticism, Walt was undeniably impressed. Not everybody had that natural detective's instinct, not even all the deputies he'd had, but Victoria Moretti had it in spades. There were times where her intuition, especially combined with her big city training, still left the small-town-sheriff part of him slightly in awe.

Vic peered at him sidelong, running her fingernail— tastefully painted, he suddenly noticed— further down the sheet. "Not if you take the rest of these into account. Look at the Gibson. 'Sometimes a man is just looking for a manly drink.' Ha! Or maybe a male prostitute to keep him company. And what about the martinis? One olive, two olives, three olives with a twist? The code is so painfully obvious!"

The enthusiasm involved in her code-cracking was infectious, but Walt was still a bit mystified. "What about this one— Espresso Martini? Doesn't seem to fit the pattern."

Biting her lip, Vic's eyes fixed onto Walt's face. Although it appeared as though she was observing him, he could tell she was actually deep in contemplation. After a few moments her lips twisted into a small grin.

"Didn't you say there was an unusual amount of drug activity originating from this place as well?"

"Yep," he replied.

"Espresso Martini. 'When you need a pick-me-up to help you unwind.' They might as well just write 'This hooker will bring cocaine to your room' in block letters in the description instead."

It made a surprising amount of sense. "How 'bout these?" The pad of his finger accidentally brushed over the knuckle of her thumb where it was holding the paper, and he was sure he only imagined that her arm pressed closer against his as a result.

"The rum drinks?" Vic gave a small snort. "That's easy. Partner swapping."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Have you ever had one Mojito too many? It makes you want to fuck _everybody_."

Walt wasn't even sure what a Mojito had in it, but he was suddenly interested in finding out. He could feel his face heating up. "Umm—"

Vic backpedalled a bit, speaking rapidly. "Of course that could just be me. But look what they wrote for the Mai Tai. 'With two kinds of rum, because variety is the spice of life'."

They went down the rest of the list, identifying each depraved offering. As much as Walt could think about the crimes themselves dispassionately, it was admittedly difficult to ignore the blatant sexual nature of each new configuration of filth as it tumbled effortlessly from the lips of his deputy. How could he have ever envisioned a scenario where they'd be sitting side by side on a slightly squeaky motel bed and having a serious discussion involving threesomes, voyeurism, and orgies?

As they formulated their plan Walt squirmed inconspicuously, hoping against hope that Vic wouldn't notice he was half-hard inside his jeans. If she mentioned blow jobs again in that unintentionally sultry voice, he might achieve a level of arousal that would prove difficult to conceal.

Higher brain function kicked back in as he noticed a lull in Vic's speech. She was looking at him expectantly, and Walt swiftly managed to rewind enough of their conversation to catch up. If he let his mind wander like that many more times he'd be lucky to survive the night without earning himself a slap. He reached across to the battered side table, catching a whiff of Vic's spicy-sweet perfume as he crossed into her personal space. Picking up the phone receiver, he brandished it between them.

"So. You wanna ring for room service, or should I do the honors?"

**x**

To maximize the effectiveness of the operation, they had of course ordered the most complicated and fiendishly dirty item on the menu.

It was a Long Island Iced Tea, served 'extra long' with lemon slices and a cherry Brandy floater. As far as Walt understood it, he and his deputy had just invited themselves in for a great big raging orgy with wife-swapping, several prostitutes, blindfolds, light bondage, and a side order of what Vic had referred to as 'hot gay action.' Walt figured he must still be a bit confused by the menu because he had thought the man-on-man stuff was represented by pickled onions, noticeably absent from this wicked concoction. She had taken care of the ordering, so they'd just have to hope her interpretation was roundly correct.

While she was finishing up with the tawdry details he'd borrowed her cell phone and shut himself in the bathroom to call in a brief update to Branch and Ferg at their post on the outside, letting them know that the sting was proceeding and they should wait for the signal they'd agreed on. The private moment allowed Walt the opportunity to adjust himself away from prying eyes, and a brief examination of the slightly moldy grout work behind the cracked sink did assist him in regaining tighter control over his frazzled impulses.

When he walked back out into the main part of the motel room, Walt found nearly all of his progress swiftly nullified. Vic was finished on the phone, and she had removed her leather jacket and slung it over the slightly weathered chair in the corner of the room. She had also taken off her shoes, and was currently in the process of turning down the classically ugly paisley-patterned covers on the large bed. Of the many and varied thoughts that entered his mind, there was only one that seemed suitable to voice out loud.

"Where's your gun?"

There was no shoulder holster in evidence. Walt tried with all his might to stop his eyes from lingering on her body as she stretched to disarrange the pillows in the center of the bed, but the way that dress hugged her curves was so distracting it should have come with its own road hazard sign.

"Hmm?" She turned to look at him, still bent at the waist, golden hair sweeping down across her shoulder. "Oh, I didn't bring it."

His eyebrows scrunched. "You didn't bring a firearm?"

The unruly hardness in Walt's shorts throbbed rebelliously as Vic bent one knee and climbed partway onto the bed, yanking at the sheets where they had been carefully tucked around the mattress.

"It didn't seem practical, given the circumstances."

_Neither does the way the lacy hem of that skirt is riding up the outside of your thigh_, Walt privately mused.

"And being unarmed was the obvious solution?"

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Calm down, cowboy. I've got some mace in my purse and I know how to use it."

Vic slithered back into a standing position next to the bed, surveying her handiwork. "There, that's better."

Walt frowned at the rumpled state of the bed. "Is it?"

Tilting her head thoughtfully, Vic walked over to stand in front of him. "Yeah. It looks like we've been… you know. Using it." Her hands reached out, sliding beneath the collar of his leather jacket and tugging at his shirt front.

Walt's reaction was involuntary, accompanied by a sharply indrawn breath. His right hand shot up to grasp one of her slender wrists. "What're you doing?"

Deft fingers pausing in their task, she pouted her lips and regarded him with those intelligent green-and-gold flecked eyes. "Do you wanna look like a pair of undercover cops lying in wait when they get here? You need to loosen up a bit, Walt."

Apparently messing up the bed wasn't enough— she intended to dishevel him, too.

"You should take your jacket off. You look like you're getting ready to bolt."

That was exactly what his instincts were telling him to do; run out of this motel room and far, far away from the temptation that was staring him in the face. Instead he let Vic unsnap the top of his shirt, but stepped back as she attempted to push the leather jacket off his shoulders.

"Can't take it off, they'll see my gun."

Vic's eyes trailed slowly down Walt's body, and the base of his spine tingled. As her gaze burned a path past his waistline and lower, she arched one perfect eyebrow in surprise.

"Pretty sure they'll already be able to tell you're packing heat."

_Well, shit._ Walt cringed internally, turning away and running a hand through the back of his hair. Could this possibly get any more awkward? It was like there were three people in the room; Walt, Vic, and Walt's unmistakable erection. Vic had to know it was largely because of her. Didn't she? If so, she looked oddly pleased about it, and Walt wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Her low, teasing voice derailed his train of thought. "Fine, we'll just tell them you like to watch."

This night was going to live in infamy, he just knew it.

**x**

_Oh boy, Walt is having a hard time. Hmm, maybe I should have phrased that differently? LOL. _

_Let me know how you liked this— I certainly appreciate all the feedback you guys have kindly supplied! :D_


	3. Chapter 3

_Season's greetings, everyone! Sorry I've not had time to update this in a week; I have been busy with work and Christmas-related events, as I'm sure is the case for many of you. _

_The scene which begins here was intended as one long chapter, but it was getting rather lengthy and I found an acceptable place to break it. Consequently, it is able to keep a T rating for now, and should have another update by Wednesday or Thursday._

_x_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part III**

Now it was three hours later, but it felt like it had been a year. The thirteen people they had arrested had been trucked off to Tri-County, because there simply wasn't enough space for that many detainees at the station. It was quite a haul, and in technical terms the sting had gone off without a hitch. It was the minute details that seemed to be the sticking points, and would more than likely explain why Walt's deputy was stalking around the crime scene like a pissed-off lioness with a toothache.

It was just the two of them here now, finishing up and making sure the evidence was secured. Branch and Ferg had gone with the prisoners, accompanied by a female deputy out of Cumberland County they had radioed in for support. Wrangling that many 'suspects' had been quite a challenge; especially taking into account the dubious cooperation of the motel owner, who had not been well pleased to be roused from bed in the middle of the night and informed that his office manager had been running a highly complicated brothel service while she should have been keeping up with the bookwork.

There had been a lot of embarrassment and some amount of belligerence, but only one of the suspects had actually attempted to flee the scene. The half-dressed drug-delivering gigolo clearly hadn't banked on the Wrath of Deputy Moretti, and found himself slam-tackled and handcuffed faster than he could even _say _"Handcuffs." Walt's opinion was that it was pretty appropriate karma for a guy who had just asked to be spanked _that_ many times. In retrospect it was actually kinda funny.

Somehow, he had the distinct impression that his deputy wouldn't be up for appreciating the humorous side. She had slipped back into her heels, but was still sans jacket and currently flinging bags of evidence into a tactical nylon carryall. Walt tried giving her a weak smile, but she glared in response.

"Is there some sort of problem?"

The glare intensified. "Why don't you tell _me_. You're the one who almost blew our cover."

Oh. _That _was what this was about. "Sorry. You know I'm not good with this stuff."

She rounded on him. "_Stuff? _Which _stuff? _The stuff where we were supposed to act married? The stuff where we were out for a swingin' good time? Or maybe the stuff where you were _not _meant to act like a jealous boyfriend after hiring those people to do exactly what they were doing?"

Walt put his hands on his hips. "I didn't like them touching you."

Mirroring his stance, she leaned in. "They were _paid_ to touch me. That's what undercover _is_, Walt. You were supposed to pretend you liked it."

Thinking back to the way the two deviants had put their hands on Vic, hungry eyes fixed on the unexpected prize they'd been awarded, he could feel the hot ball of rage returning to its recent home in the pit of his stomach. They'd been laughing like it was a game, like they had every right to touch her and it wasn't important or special in any way. Vic had performed her end of the deal admirably, leaning back against the man's chest as his hands glided around her waist and barely blushing as the woman leaned in to nibble on her earlobe.

"They were taking advantage, using you as if you were just as cheap and detached from reality as they were." Walt's hand flexed, clenching into a fist and then releasing. "What was there to like?"

She took another step closer. He could feel the heat radiating from the coiled spring of her body. It was true, Walt had entirely failed to play along. He couldn't hide his displeasure, and he'd almost given the game away far too soon. Those things he could accept responsibility for, but Vic wasn't finished dishing it out.

"You can be as high and mighty as you want. But from what I saw earlier? Faking it should have been pretty damn easy for you."

Vic's gaze flickered down his form and swiftly back up again, and Walt knew she was referring to the aroused state he had been in just before the sting kicked off. Something inside snapped, and he felt himself advancing on her. Their positions as aggressor and target were suddenly reversed, and he backed her up until she was pressed against the 70's style prefabricated desk on the other side of the room.

His voice was low, anger pulling hard on an already tight leash. "Don't. Don't you _dare_ mock me for something I couldn't control."

Wide eyes and parted lips greeted him as he pressed forward, hands perched on either side of her hips on the desk. Her flustered appearance and the burst of adrenaline had brought his erection screaming back with a vengeance, and he absently registered how she gasped and shivered as he pressed the distinct and growing hardness against the junction of her hip and thigh.

"You think this is _easy_ for me? I'm no good at pretending, Vic. It's not in my nature to _fake it._ I may be strong, but every man has his limits." Walt closed his eyes for a moment, unable to meet his own gaze in the mirror that was mounted to the wall behind the desk. "I'm sorry I couldn't pretend the sight of you in that dress wasn't driving me crazy or that I didn't want to break those scumbags' arms for even thinking about touching you, but I couldn't. I just _couldn__'__t_, okay?"

Her breathing seemed a bit shaky, and he was surprised to feel her hands sliding up the line of his ribcage and over his chest to grasp at the collar of his leather jacket. Walt's heightened senses took note of the luxurious scrunching noise the material made beneath her fingers. After that diatribe he expected to be pushed away, smacked into next week, and possibly brought up on sexual harassment charges in the morning. Instead, he felt her tugging him nearer, whispering one slightly broken word against his jaw. "Okay."

Freezing, he tried to clear his thoughts and directed his eyes onto hers. She looked a bit dazed, but the expression was surprisingly soft. His eyebrows knit in confusion for the second or third time that day. "…Okay?"

Her lips had trailed from the side of his jaw to hover near his mouth. "Yeah. _Okay_." They brushed tentatively against his, by accident or design he wasn't initially sure. "Walt… kiss me."

That seemed fairly unambiguous, but Walt's befuddled brain couldn't quite transmit the breaking news to his mouth. "What?"

Apparently the query was not worth dignifying with an answer, so Vic had skipped that step and proceeded directly to molding her lips gently onto his. She tilted her head, nudging at the seam of his lips with both of hers and— he assumed— trying to coax a response. He'd always had a hard time saying 'no' to her, and this wasn't any different. He surrendered, letting Vic take possession of his mouth and marveling at the sensation of her knuckles pressing against the indents above his collarbones as she grasped his jacket even tighter.

For a few slow moments Walt let himself sink into the kiss, sliding his tongue alongside hers as it explored the deeper reaches of his mouth. God, he had wanted to kiss her for so long. She pulled him in close, leaning back against the desk and shifting upward to rub more directly against the bulge in his jeans. Whoa. His hands were still on top of the wooden surface, balled into fists to help maintain the last shreds of his control.

Breaking away, he straightened slightly and noticed how Vic's lips followed after his in a quest to prolong the connection. He bit the inside of his cheek, mind working overtime, unsure of his deputy's motives as her hands swept up from his chest to his shoulders. Did she really want him, the way he wanted her, or was she stubbornly testing the waters just to prove he couldn't resist her? Worse yet, she could be suffering from the aforementioned Mojito Effect… Walt couldn't control the stab of anxiety he felt in his guts.

"You don't have to act like this, you know. We're all done with undercover. You might think you've got something to prove, but don't play with me."

Vic's eyes flashed and then trailed off to the side. She looked slightly hurt, but Walt couldn't bring himself to feel remorseful after the things she'd said to him. Maybe she understood that, because when she raised her head again her gaze was full of fire and determination.

"Do you really think I would do that? That I ever _could?_" She leaned into him slowly, closing the limited distance, raising her face and placing a lingering kiss to the side of his neck. Her voice was lower than usual, sexy, with a barely-concealed uncertainty that hit him right where it hurt. "Maybe you're not the only one who sucks at pretending."

**xxxxx**

_Sorry if the end of this chapter seems a bit… cliffhanger-ish? As mentioned, more will be along in a few days. I wonder what Walt will think and/or do about Vic's proclamation? Let me know your thoughts in a review! ;D_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, all! Sorry for yet another delay with this chapter. It's a nice long one, so hopefully that compensates somewhat. Updates should be more regular for the remainder of the story, as my work schedule is finally more or less back to normal and I (presumably) won't have any more out of town friends randomly popping up to drag me away from my writing pursuits. There are one or two chapters remaining— this fic played a little trick on me and got slightly longer than I had originally planned. _

_As promised, the rating for this story is being changed to M from this chapter forward. Hopefully It won't get lost and forgotten behind ff net's lousy filters. :P_

_I would assume it's implied at this point, but be warned that this chapter contains sexual content. I mean… it's really __**very**__ mature. Haha! Enjoy…_

_x_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part IV**

Hands still and tense on his shoulders, Vic waited. It was a few beats before Walt realized that what she was waiting for was him, waiting to see whether he would accept or reject her advances. The blood pounded down through his jugular, right where she had just kissed him, causing a lightheaded sensation in his already overtaxed brain.

Then she was in his arms and their lips were fused, tongues probing and tangling. Her hands were restless, wandering over his upper body and scrambling at the front of his shirt trying to access bare skin. His own hands came to rest at the curves of her waist, grasping, unable to decide whether he wanted to keep her still or urge her closer against him. His thumbs traced circles on her hipbones where he could feel them beneath the thin material of her dress. Eventually his impulses won the battle and his arms snaked further around her, forcing her nearer with one palm pressed beneath the meeting point of her shoulder blades.

The heat that flared between them was irrepressible, forcing a primal groan up from some deep part of Walt that hadn't been reached in what suddenly seemed like far too long. In response Vic broke her mouth away from his with a whimper, running her fingers over his stubbled cheek and grazing the corner of his mouth with her thumb. He turned his head just slightly so that he could kiss the trailing digit, which encouraged her to bring it back to sweep slowly across his bottom lip as she stared into his eyes. Accepting the challenge she might not have even realized she'd issued, Walt slid his lips around the tip of Vic's thumb, drawing it into his mouth and feeling the textured whorl of her thumbprint with his tongue.

"Oh…"

He could feel the way Vic went a bit weak in his arms as he sucked gently on her thumb and then released it, and knowing he had that power was an intoxicating feeling. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and leaned against the desk for support, still clinging at the collar of his jacket with one hand. Her head dropped back and slightly to the side as she unintentionally exposed the elegant line of her neck.

Mesmerized, Walt brought one hand up and pushed a few stray wisps of hair away from the side of Vic's face. He dragged his fingers over the edge of her jaw and down her neck slowly, barely touching, stroking her collarbone and teasing at the neckline of her dress. Her breathing was rapid and uneven when he allowed his hand to slide lower, feeling the soft fabric and the warmth of her body beneath as his fingers drifted teasingly past her heaving chest.

Vic lowered her head, watching his hand and pushing her body into his touch. Walt allowed his fingers to mold more firmly, complying with her unspoken request. She stretched abruptly to kiss him, a strangely chaste but lingering contact. As Vic drew away she peered up at him, imploring. Reaching for his other hand, she pressed it against her ribcage so that he was grasping either side of her torso with all his fingers fanned out.

Her lips pressed together before she spoke, whispered words anything but innocent. "I want your hands all over me."

This time Walt did swallow heavily, bunching the fabric under his fingers as they clutched and stroked of their own accord. One hand moved upward, thumb traversing the valley beneath one perky, lace-clad breast. The other journeyed down Vic's side and over the curve of her hip, fingers eventually skirting along the hem of her dress as if they'd reached the edge of a very steep cliff.

Looping her arms around his neck, which Walt noticed gave his hands almost complete freedom to roam her body, Vic kept talking. "When they were touching me I—" Her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, either from her recollection or the sudden reality of his fingertips trailing up the bare skin on the outside of her thigh beneath the filmy material. Walt wasn't sure which. "—all I could do was pretend it was you. Just—"

She trailed off, gasping as his whole palm pressed against her leg and dragged the already brief skirt even higher. Walt's senses were short-circuiting, remembering the spark he had seen in her eyes as the suspects felt her up, knowing now that it had been directed at him. He was hard as a rock, a fact he communicated by sliding his hand around to the back of Vic's thigh and pulling her against him as he pushed forward. He pinned her to the desk, rolling his hips into hers as he leaned down to kiss her again.

This kiss was long, slow, and— to Walt's mind— filthy in the best possible sense. His eyes drifted shut for a moment as it grew deeper, more involved, and the way the tip of her tongue was fluttering against the roof of his mouth made him feel flutters of another kind altogether. Vic made a little purring noise as she arched into him, running a hand through his hair as she rubbed the length of her body enticingly against his. His hand gripped at the outside of her leg involuntarily, still under the dress, thumb sliding up toward the junction of her hip and causing her to squirm and break the kiss with a sharp intake of breath.

"Walt," her eyes were unfocused, slightly wild, his name like the unexpected touch of a feather against his lips. Then her hands were gliding down his chest, over the plane of his stomach, and when she started tugging at his belt buckle Walt could feel whatever control he thought he had over this situation draining swiftly away.

Her fingers were deft, and before he knew it she'd dealt with the buckle and moved on to the button directly beneath. Eyelashes fluttering as her attention alternated between Walt's face and the mind-meltingly arousing task of unfastening his pants, Vic flashed him a small smile. "Button fly jeans, huh?" She went up on the tips of her toes, the softness of her chest pressing against his own as she gently teased his earlobe with her teeth. "That shit is sexy as hell."

_Was_ it? Walt had never given much consideration to the whole button/zip debate. He wore 501s and that was that. A small noise escaped his throat as he felt the third button release, easing the pressure in his pants for a brief moment. Vic's nose bumped against his as one of her hands snaked its way into the open front of his jeans, fingertips pressing eagerly over the cotton-encased hardness found within. Walt was momentarily paralyzed by the sensation, coupled with the damp tickle of her breath on the side of his face.

He tried to focus. It was a bit difficult with Vic's palm forming itself onto the shape of his erection through the material of his navy blue boxer briefs. "We—" Walt shuddered, driven to distraction by the way Vic bit her lip as her fingers snuck their way inside his underwear to wrap around his cock. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Peering up at him with her free hand resting near the open collar of his shirt, she tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows. "Don't you want me?"

It almost made him laugh, the mere idea that she could think otherwise. "I do. More than you can imagine. But this is a crime scene—"

Vic's hand squeezed gently before delving further, trailing down the length of him until she met the root, dragging back up and slowly rubbing her thumb over the tip. Walt's hips pressed into her touch of their own accord. She knew what she was doing, that was for sure, and Walt was alarmed at his seeming inability to resist her sensual pull.

"There's no one else here, and the door is locked." She placed an open-mouthed kiss at the edge of his jaw.

Walt shut his eyes briefly, knowing he would give in, that he couldn't stop this now that it had gone so far. Raising a hand to Vic's face, he stroked his fingers tenderly over her cheek. "It shouldn't be like this. You deserve… something better."

Leaning her face into his hand she smiled at him, voice a husky whisper. "Plenty of time for romance later. Right now I just need you."

He had forgotten that one of his hands was essentially up Vic's skirt, until he felt her reach down to cover it with her own. She pulled upward, guiding him until he could feel the lacy edge of her panties against his fingertips. He allowed the backs of his fingers to dip beneath the material while his thumb slid over the fabric at the very core of her. Rubbing at the lace he could feel how wet she was, feel the overwhelming heat of her desire. She shivered against him, tracing her tongue along the inside of his bottom lip.

They fell into another kiss, fanning the flames as they drove each other higher. He was touching her unashamedly now, fingers exploring her slick center with targeted abandon as she worked to free his throbbing erection from the confines of his clothing. She pushed the fabric of his jeans and boxers down just far enough, and Walt couldn't help but grin slightly at the way her eyes widened when they fixed on his… equipment. It was still in good working order, if he said so himself.

"You got a license for that thing?"

Face heating slightly from her appreciative comment, he let out a short laugh. "Just got it renewed. I, uhh… haven't really used it in a while."

Reaching toward him again, Vic trailed her index finger from the leaking tip of his erection down to the sensitive indent where the shaft met with his unmercifully tightened balls. "Bet you still know how."

The look in those green and gold eyes burned him as the exploratory caresses continued. Walt cleared his throat and took a couple deep, calming breaths. "Hope so."

"Show me?"

Her hands wound back up to rest over his chest, causing Walt to realize that they were both still almost fully clothed. He had never done anything like this before, never thought he wanted to, but his deputy had a way of being very convincing. She ran her hands over the leather of his jacket, grasping the collar once again to drag him closer.

"Please."

It wasn't a question, not an order either, merely a statement that reinforced her desire and added to his own. Abruptly Walt felt himself spinning Vic around, pinning her hands against the desk with the flats of his own, molding the length of his body against hers with one knee bent forward and pressing between her legs. Their eyes met in the mirror mounted behind the desk and he took in the sight of them, disheveled, breathing heavily, her eyes shining back at him with complete trust and longing.

Squirming against him wantonly, Vic raised one hand to rake through his hair and draw him in. Walt moved as well, pushing the fabric of her dress up over her hip on one side and hooking his fingers into her panties to tug them out of the way. Her skin was smooth beneath his fingers, warm and inviting. Vic arched her back, head lolling against Walt's shoulder as he lined himself up.

Lowering his face so that his lips were against her ear, Walt offered a final reprieve. "You sure about this?"

Holding his gaze in the mirror in front of them, she nodded and offered a breathy "Yes" as she pushed back against him insistently. They were really doing this, and Lord help him but he didn't want to stop. From the sound of things, she didn't want that either.

"Don't make me wait."

He had no intention of doing so. With one hand resting at her hip and the other wrapped firmly around her waist Walt pushed forward, slowly embedding himself in the slick heat that awaited. Vic braced one of her hands more firmly on the desk top, canting her pelvis so that the angle was just _that much better _and their bodies could join like puzzle pieces. Walt choked back a groan at the torrid, utterly complete feeling that washed through him as he took her. He bent forward, dragging his lips over the back of her neck and letting out a breath that it felt like he'd been holding for months on end. Vic whimpered when he pulled part of the way out and then buried himself to the hilt, circling his hips as her tight channel clenched around him.

"Oh my God," she rocked her hips again, encouraging, hair falling across her shoulders as she bent over a bit further. Walt watched her in the mirror as he tried out a couple experimental thrusts, the hand that had been wrapped around her waist snaking up to massage one of her still-clothed breasts as they adopted a steady rhythm.

Vic's soft noises of satisfaction spurred Walt on, and the pace of their coupling increased. At one point her mouth fell open on a louder moan and he knew he'd found something good. He slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back and applied a slight downward pressure, holding her in place so that he could drive into that same spot over and over again. She pitched forward, legs buckling, pliant and willing as he pinned her more firmly against the wooden surface.

Totally consumed, surrounded by her, Walt was having trouble telling where he ended and Vic began. Looking down, he tried to push his untucked shirt tails out of the way so that he could get a better view. Vic moaned his name, begged him to do it harder, and all he could give her was exactly what she asked. He snapped his hips forward and added a constant grinding motion, grunting with the effort, totally lost in the sensation of her body squeezing around his overstimulated cock.

It wasn't long before Vic was crying out, attempting to stifle a scream as she reached a hand back to grab his backside and pull him in hard. She seemed unable to stay fully upright as the throes of orgasm overtook her, one of her elbows meeting with the desk and her head falling sideways. Her lips were parted, breathing out several rapturous curse words as she peered up at him out of the corner of one eye. Walt shoved his body forward, surging into Vic with intense twisting motions. He gripped her hips with both his hands and bit back a growl as she pulsed around him.

There was so much between them, and Walt felt it all in that moment. The carefully buried desires, the many flavors of guilt, and the tender feelings that were harbored within. It was all too much, more than he could handle once he put it together with the sudden and explosive sensuality of their actions, and he could feel her name tumbling from his lips as he joined her in blissful oblivion. The jerking motions of his lower body were perfectly in time with the uncontrolled spasms of hers, and the synchronized erotic force of that connection was enough to make his eyes roll skyward from the pleasure of it.

He couldn't remember if making love to a woman had ever caused him to see stars before, and Walt absently contemplated whether that might just be old age catching up with him. Could he really keep pace with someone as young and vibrant as his deputy? The question seemed a bit stupid once he came back to awareness on the other side of that brightly flashing climax, slumped half on top of his partner with his slowly softening manhood still held deep inside. She was completely undone beneath him, boneless, hair a wild golden tangle and a smile on her face like a cat sleeping in a shaft of sunlight.

"Wow…"

As their breathing evened out, Walt lifted himself up. Seeing Vic's lacy underwear pulled down around her bare thighs made him feel like more of a reprobate than any of the lowlifes they'd trucked off to the lockup just hours ago. He reached down, carefully righting her undergarments and pulling the dress that had been hiked up almost to her waist back down into a more proper position.

In counterpoint to his instinct toward remorse, Vic rose and twisted toward him. Skin glowing, she perched her well-formed backside on top of the desk and cradled both sides of his face, pulling him down for an unmistakably amorous post-coital kiss. The serenity of Vic's smile made him wonder whether maybe they could still backpedal and do this right. God, how he wanted to do things the right way when it came to her. And yet in one moment of weakness he had pretty much blown those noble intentions out of the water.

Opening his mouth to speak Walt wasn't quite sure _what_ words would come out, but he knew he needed to say something. Uncharacteristically she hadn't uttered a word yet, only reached down to tuck him back into his pants and button him up with steady and careful motions. He wasn't sure whether he should apologize, ask her on a date, kiss her senseless, or declare his undying love. All of these seemed like viable options, to his lust-scattered mind.

Unfortunately, Walt didn't get the chance to work it out. A sharp rap on the door had both of them blushing and adjusting their garments, scrambling to make themselves presentable before letting Branch in to help them gather the last of the evidence.

Walt couldn't find an excuse to keep Vic with him as the three departed the scene, not with Branch offering to drop her home on his way and Walt still having an unsightly mass of paperwork to deal with. Vic peered over her shoulder at him as she followed Branch to his car, arms now covered by her leather jacket and legs that were miles long in those unfamiliar heels. Her expression was wistful, but with a hint of aggravation.

It made him wonder which of the myriad things he had done wrong tonight had caused the slight frown, the tension in her forehead. He only knew that he was totally lost when it came to Vic Moretti, and the consequences of his shattered control could easily tear their partnership- which he had come to treasure so much- apart at the seams.

**xxxxx**

_Oooh! Naughty Walt. Naughty Vic, too, but really more naughty Walt for being so darn CLUELESS. What will Vic need to do in order to knock some sense into his head? Welp, I've got a couple ideas. ;) _

_Tell me your theories in a review, and I'll have another chapter headed your way in about a week's time!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Here's the next bit! Thanks for being patient with my updates. Lots of work and life stuff going on, even in boring January! This was looking likely to be the final chapter, but there will be one more to wrap things up with a nice pretty bow because there's some stuff that I didn't quite get to._

_Thanks for all the comments and encouragement! There is more M rated content throughout this chapter, just to warn you… ;D_

_x_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part V**

Two hours later, dim morning light was beginning to filter through the open blinds in his office and Walt Longmire was no closer to un-distracting himself from thoughts of what he had done with his deputy earlier in the evening. The entire case seemed to be a rubble-strewn field of sexual land mines, from the surveillance documents to his own awkward, stilted crime scene report.

He kept fighting against the inadvisable impulse to add his own actions to the depraved official summary. "At 02:37 hours the aforementioned Sheriff Longmire bent one of his subordinates over a pine and fiberboard writing table (Exhibit A) and fucked her brains out." Even the worst defense attorney in Wyoming would have the entire case thrown out of court before he'd finished reading the sentence.

It wasn't that he thought what he and Vic had done together was _wrong_, exactly. It certainly hadn't felt wrong to kiss her, touch her, to get as close as two people could possibly be. The only thing that bothered him about the situation was the way it had happened and his apparent newfound inability to control himself when it came to her.

There was an old fashioned part of Walt that insisted tenderness and affection should come before sex. He wished that he could have treated Vic like a lady, wined and dined her, brought her flowers— ones that she would actually like. Instead he had allowed the adrenaline and the heat of the moment to override his honor, and even if she claimed it was what she wanted he felt he owed it to both of them to treat their relationship with more care.

Which wasn't to say he didn't want to do it again. Soon, and often if he could possibly help it. Maybe it was better this way; if this situation hadn't arisen would he have ever gotten up the courage to address the attraction he had for Vic? Like she'd told him, there was still plenty of time for romance…

The jumble of Walt's thoughts had him briefly contemplating his own desk in a ribald manner that didn't quite line up with his idealistic train of thought. He willed the stubbornly persistent erection currently performing an enthusiastic encore in his jeans to subside, covering his eyes with one hand and massaging his throbbing temples.

Some rest was probably what he needed, really. He would have been worn out from the sting on a normal day, and a normal day for Walt didn't tend to include all that many mind-blanking, explosive orgasms. He could hear some activity from the outer office, and realized that it had grown late enough in the morning that Ruby had arrived. She could cover the phones and get ahold of Ferg if anything came up, since the youngest deputy would be on duty in just a couple hours.

Walt couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a desire to go to his cabin and really get some sleep. He was sure there were a series of unfamiliar endorphins at work, causing his limbs to loosen and his body to feel relaxed. There might be some issues to address between himself and his favorite deputy, but they could wait until later in the day— perhaps he would find some of the answers in his dreams.

**x**

When he spotted Vic perched on his front porch with a half-empty bottle of water, surveying the land from behind her Ray Bans like she owned the place, Walt was struck by the stark difference between this unanticipated visit— which he _should_ have expected if he were any sort of detective worth his salt— and the last time he'd been ambushed by a woman.

Lizzie Ambrose's fake 911 call had left Walt feeling irritated and uncomfortable in equal measure, unaccountably ticked off by her abuse of the public system and strangely unaroused at the sight of the satin and lace she had barely adorned herself with. He should have been flattered, maybe allowed himself the luxury of letting a woman surprise him. It wasn't that she was trying too hard, more that Walt wasn't sure how he even felt about having her try at all.

His deputy by contrast was unpretentiously clad in a plain white t-shirt and jeans paired with the same slightly scuffed boots she wore every day, hair thrown into a loose ponytail. Vic's elbows were propped on her knees, her body at rest but still radiating restless energy as Walt approached the front of the cabin.

"Vic. What brings you here?"

After a loaded pause she removed her sunglasses, fresh face gleaming in the early morning light. "Gee, let me think about that one for a minute." He could almost _taste _the ensuing eye roll.

Walt looked down at his boots, then raised his steady gaze back up to meet hers. One perfectly groomed and arched eyebrow greeted him, but the expression was one of amusement rather than irritation. "Sorry. Stupid question, I guess." He levered himself up onto the porch, striding over to lean against one of the support beams and regarding her silently until she furthered the conversation.

"I thought we should get a few things cleared up before you had a chance to go all weird on me."

"What makes you so sure I'm gonna 'go weird'?"

Vic gave a short laugh, accompanied by the barest flash of a smile. "Well, we can start with the fact that you've already put about as much distance between us as it's possible to have on this damn porch that you _still_ haven't finished and go from there."

He removed his hat and rotated it between his hands. "Thought we'd both be less… nervous like this."

"Who's nervous? You don't need to stand so far away, Walt. I'm not about to molest you."

"Okay," he gave her a small smile, heart secretly hammering at the mere idea. "We could go inside if you want. Sit down and talk about it? Might be more comfortable."

"Sure."

Holding the door open for her like the gentleman he liked to believe he was, Walt followed Vic into the cabin. His attention was diverted for mere seconds, long enough to ensure that the door was shut securely and to hang his hat and coat on the nearby rack. He spoke as he turned back toward his guest.

"You want some coffee, or—?"

Startled into silence by Vic's sudden proximity, he found himself being pushed against the wall. Her palms were planted firmly on his chest, one sliding up to grip the back of his neck as she eliminated all remaining space between them. He was transfixed, watching her features blur before his eyes and feeling her lips brushing against his as she responded to the question.

"Screw coffee."

Her kiss was firm but searching, full of contrasting textures and backed by an uncertainty she was clearly trying to hide beneath the aggression that lay on the surface. And it felt good. Really good. Walt allowed himself to respond, yielding just enough to reassure Vic that he wasn't pushing her away, but keeping his arms at his sides. She slid her body upward against his, forearms pressing against his chest as her fingers cradled both sides of his face. She applied gentle pressure, tilting his head slightly sideways for better access.

When Vic's tongue traced along the seam of his lips, Walt gripped her shoulders with both of his hands and carefully disengaged from the kiss. They were both breathing heavily. "Didn't you say you weren't gonna molest me?"

"Yeah. I might've lied a bit." Pressing forward, she tried to kiss him again.

Walt held her firmly away, turning his head aside so that Vic's lips met with his stubbled jaw. "This doesn't feel like talking."

Her forehead fell against his breastbone, both hands steadying themselves on the sides of his abdomen just above the belt line. "I _said_ I wanted to get some things clear, not that I wanted to talk."

"What things?" He peered down at her, pulled in by that steady golden gaze.

"Is this your way of tricking me into talking?" Vic blinked at him slowly, rubbing her thumbs back and forth along the line where his shirt was tucked into his jeans.

One of Walt's hands seemed to have developed a mind of its own, brushing up over her shoulder until his fingertips could trace across the bare skin above the collar of her t-shirt. "Might be. Is it working?"

"Nope—"

It was impossible to tell who had initiated the kiss, but Walt was ninety percent sure it had been him this time. He was always big on trusting the evidence, and the way one of his hands was now loosening Vic's hair from its messy ponytail and the other had wound down to the small of her back seemed very incriminating.

Their mouths were unrepentantly open to each other now, tongues stroking and twisting. Vic tasted a little like toothpaste, and definitely like some type of fruit. Peaches? He swiped his tongue along the back of her top row of teeth to get another taste, digging his fingers into the back of her t-shirt and bunching the fabric as a deliciously indecent noise made its way up from her throat and vibrated through the feverish connection of their lips.

That noise, coupled with the sensation of Vic running the backs of her knuckles over the growing ridge in the front of his jeans, shocked Walt back from the edge. He forced himself to break away, reaching down to grab her wrist and still those enticing motions. It wasn't easy; he was more turned on as each second passed and he was certain she was perfectly aware of what she did to him. The bigger surprise for Walt was that Vic seemed to be just as affected.

Walt was so keyed up he could feel his own voice rumbling up from his chest as he released her. "We should slow down."

"Your mouth might say that, but your body disagrees." Vic kissed him, a soft and lingering pressure, almost enough to distract him from the fingers which were now toying with his belt buckle for the second time in the past twelve hours. She pouted her lips, pink and swollen from their enthusiastic explorations, as her attention moved to the buttons of his jeans. "Hmm. This is not a bad sort of deja vu to have."

The memory of their first encounter both aroused and paralyzed Walt to a significant degree as she provided that sultry reminder. He tried to strengthen his argument with a sterner intonation. "We need to discuss this."

Vic shushed him, finger pressing briefly against his lips. "I think I've got an idea on how to shut down that brain of yours. It's a theory I've been wanting to test."

"What are you—"

Working his traitorously stiff erection free of its encumbrances once again, Vic gave him a mischievous look that almost had Walt ready to throw caution to the wind, sling her over his shoulder, and take her straight to bed. His rampaging train of thought was momentarily derailed as she dropped out of his line of sight.

_Oh._

Walt was glad he still had the wall behind him for support as he understood the reality of Vic, upright on her knees in front of him. Her face was inches away from his now throbbing cock, which twitched as he felt her breath ghosting over unbearably sensitized skin. She reached a hand toward him, running her fingers up and down his shaft like she wanted to learn every contour. Walt released a broken gasp as her tongue peeked out and followed suit, licking a stripe from the base all the way up and back down. Then she was grasping his length, side of her palm pressing gently against his balls as her lips slid over the tip.

The wet heat and sudden suction coupled with the maddening sight of Vic's mouth engulfing him were making Walt feel fierce tingles in more places than just the obvious. He fought to keep his hips still, knowing on some higher level that it wasn't proper to thrust into a lady's mouth even if she did show enthusiasm for the task. Though he may not have had many women this way, Walt was enough of a man to know it was a gift that shouldn't be abused.

Enthusiasm was certainly one word for the way Vic was working him. Her lips slid up and down, seeming to travel further along his aching manhood with every pass. Fingers providing a counterpoint of pressure wherever her mouth wasn't, she quickly adopted a rhythm that had Walt weak-kneed and shuddering with pleasure.

He ran his fingers over the skin of Vic's cheek, threading them gently into her hair as she peered up at him with a wild spark in her eyes. A moment later she altered her grip just slightly, beginning a slow descent with her mouth and taking him even deeper. She made a pleased humming noise that shot up his spine like an electric current, and he tried not to tug at her hair from pure uncontrolled lewd reflex. Walt moaned Vic's name along with a gruff, involuntary curse word as he felt the tip of his cock meet the smooth surface at the back of her throat.

Pulling off just slightly, Vic inhaled a long breath through her nose before making another downward foray. This time she sucked a little harder, and Walt felt an incomparable squeezing sensation as her throat muscles contracted and essentially tried to swallow him whole. After a few moments of this sweet torture she slid back up so that her lips were wrapped just over his ultra-sensitive tip, tongue flicking out to flutter and tease across the slit and press in under the ridge of the head. She continued to alternate all of these motions, giving occasional licks and featherlight caresses to his balls for good measure, until he felt like he was literally ready to explode.

As much as Walt liked this, to him it was an undeniable method of foreplay. He pulled Vic off of him, gentle but urgent, and her eyes displayed a short-lived mixture of disappointment and lust as he hauled her up by the shoulders and pulled her into him for a hard and probing kiss. He felt his face heating up as he tasted her sweetness combined with a salty undertone that must have originated from him, thankful in that moment that she couldn't see his embarrassment with her eyes shut and both hands pressed tight against his chest.

Breaking the kiss, Walt allowed his hands the luxury of sliding beneath her t-shirt. Vic grinned up at him, biting her lip and pulling him away from the wall by the open flaps of his jeans.

She pretended to frown, shivering as his hands wandered up over her ribcage. "I wasn't done with that."

Keeping his breathing as even as possible, Walt let her pull him backward while simultaneously guiding her toward the bedroom. A perfect give and take, just like all other aspects of their relationship. "Yeah? Well I'm not done with _you_. Much more of _that_ and this'll be over way too soon."

Hair disheveled and eyes shining with amusement as an errant ray of morning sunshine caught one side of her face, Vic teased him. "I thought you wanted to talk?"

"We can talk in the morning."

She laughed, pressing her face into his neck. "It _is_ morning." Jumping in surprise as the backs of her thighs met with the edge of the bed, she recovered quickly and started working to unfasten the snaps on his shirt front.

Pulling Vic's t-shirt over her head, Walt allowed his eyes to roam across the delicate but functional printed cotton bra and all the creamy skin surrounding it. "After dinnertime, then."

Lips pressed against his ear, she replied with a breathy whisper. "Guess we better work up an appetite."

**x**

_Sigh. These two have got it baaaaad! Walt didn't quite get the talk he wanted just yet but I don't think he's complaining. Bet your bottom dollar both he and Vic will eventually be so worn out they'll definitely get a few solid hours of sleep. ;D_

_So… what do you think? Have these two got it all worked out? Is it happily ever after? And what are they going to eat when they wake up with those massive appetites? Walt didn't have time to buy groceries… let me know your thoughts in a review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey everyone! Here is the final chapter. Hope you'll all enjoy it. Thanks for all the feedback and encouragement concerning this story. :D_

_There is yet more M-rated content in this chapter. May as well earn that rating, eh? _

_x_

**Undercover  
><strong>**Part VI**

"Hey Walt?"

"Mmhm?" It was the best he could muster up by way of a response. They were snuggled together under the covers after a long and eventful session of sexual acrobatics interspersed with bouts of light slumber. Walt's face was buried in the crook of Vic's neck, one of his legs slung across her lower body. Her fingers were tracing random patterns over his enveloping forearm, which was the only sensation that kept Walt floating in this trance-world between sleep and wakefulness.

"I need you to know something." Her voice was soft, wrapping around him like a satin ribbon. There was a slight urgency to the statement, however, and Walt's eyes fluttered open in response. He propped himself up on one elbow so that he could look down at her. The vision of Vic's hair fanned out on his pillow, golden in the filtered afternoon light, made his throat feel a bit tight.

She blinked at him slowly, an oddly sensual motion which drew his gaze to her lips as though he hadn't spent countless minutes kissing them in the past few hours. Vic seemed to sense his wandering attention, laying one steady hand at the crook of his elbow to keep him grounded.

"What is it?" He refocused on her eyes, soft brown with changeable flecks of green and gold.

Vic was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "I don't want you to think that this is just about sex."

Walt was temporarily struck by the odd role reversal. Wasn't it usually the man's job to reassure the woman that their coupling had been based on more than just lustful impulses? It would have been sort of amusing, if Vic didn't look so earnest and apprehensive. And beautiful. God she really was beautiful.

"Do you honestly think we'd be here together right now if it was?"

Shifting slightly, he traced his fingertips over the smooth skin that covered the arch of her cheekbone, a lingering touch, brushing an errant strand of hair away from the side of her face. Her eyes drifted shut for a few seconds, and she leaned into the contact before responding to his question.

"I may know what you're thinking a lot of the time, Walt. But when it comes to this? I don't have a damn clue how you feel, and that really scares me."

His lips quirked into a brief grin at Vic's assertion that she knew his thoughts so well, expression becoming more neutral as she voiced her unease. How could she not know? Walt had tried to put everything he felt into making love to her, telling her with his body, his mouth, his hands. Maybe she'd been too wrapped up in the workings of her own mind to hear him— perhaps Walt wasn't the only one who needed help shutting off his thoughts sometimes.

Pulling her into his arms, he rearranged their bodies so that his back was against the pillows and her head rested at the junction of his shoulder and neck. The feel of all her naked skin pressed against his own made him feel warm and languorous, her hand over his heart imbuing him with courage.

"I know it's not only about sex."

He ran his fingers up and down her side, from her shoulder to the bottom of her ribs and back up. Vic nuzzled her lips against his collarbone. Walt swallowed, looking at the ceiling and seeing the last three years flash before his eyes in the space of a nanosecond.

"I also know I've been in love with you for a long time. Way longer than I've had a right to be."

Vic's head shot up, surprised eyes fixing onto his as her mouth dropped open. Walt realized then that she really _hadn__'__t_ known, hadn't just needed to hear him say it.

"You… you love me?" Vic's expression had softened into one of focused tenderness, eyes studying his face with apparent fervor.

Walt nodded, brow furrowing. "I, uhh… thought you knew."

Shaking her head, she reached a hand up to caress his face like she was trying to smooth away the worry she could see written in the lines of his forehead. She leaned up to kiss him, pressing her lips softly against his for a long moment. Her face stayed close as she spoke to him.

"I had no idea. After the divorce I thought maybe you and I… well, you know. But it never happened. So I started to wonder if I'd imagined what was between us."

Arms tightening around her, Walt ignored the butterflies that were flapping in his stomach. "Vic… You've never been shy about saying how you feel. You never said anything, so I figured you didn't—" He averted his eyes, struggled with the phrasing. "—that I wasn't what you wanted."

Unexpectedly, she released a short laugh. "Oh my god, we're both idiots."

He looked at her again. "Huh?"

Moving even closer if that were possible, Vic laid across Walt's chest with one of her legs sandwiched between both of his and their lips brushing together as she continued in a sultry tone.

"We could have been having all this hot sex for months if we hadn't been so stupid."

Vic's hands moved up over his shoulders, framing his face as she kissed him again. She gently bit his bottom lip and swept her tongue over the indents left by her teeth. Walt allowed the fingers of both his hands to travel down her spine, settling just above the point where their bodies disappeared beneath the blankets. He inhaled sharply as she slid her leg further over so that she was straddling him, his shoulders falling further into the pillows at her urging.

The pace of their breathing increased as Vic placed small kisses on Walt's face and along his neck. His hands grasped her waist more firmly, maneuvering her body so that she could feel the evidence of his arousal. She rubbed herself against him, teasing them both into a frenzy. Walt was just about ready to halt her motions so that he could press himself into her when he felt the heat of her mouth against his ear.

"I love you."

It was a husky whisper, and the words had him halfway undone even before Vic lowered herself onto his waiting cock and began to move her hips. He cradled her close to him, with one hand at the small of her back and one winding up into her hair as she released a quiet moan. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes meeting in an intense exchange. Walt could feel the force of her love mirroring his own, strengthening their connection, sweetening the rapid tempo of their union.

After a few blissful minutes of stroking his hands over Vic's skin as she rode him, Walt felt the need to take charge. With a grunt of effort he reversed their positions, bodies becoming tangled in the sheets as he flipped her beneath him. Compliantly Vic wrapped her legs around his waist, digging one heel into his left ass cheek as he drove himself deeper into her tight heat. One of her hands lay next to her head on the pillow, arm thrown akimbo as they'd rolled around in the bed. Walt ran a hand up her arm, twining his fingers with hers and engaging her mouth in a fiery kiss as their hips ground together urgently. It was so good, Vic's body soft and willing but matching his own passionate energy and driving him higher with every squeeze of her hand beneath his own.

The frame of the bed made small creaking noises in tandem with the sensual sighs and moans that came from Vic as Walt pushed harder, propping himself above her and changing the angle. Her thighs squeezed the sides of his waist as she moved with him, head falling back and mouth opening on a choked gasp. He groaned at the sound, mesmerized and determined to get even closer, pressing up and forward so his chest rubbed against her breasts and created yet another layer of friction with each thrust.

"Shit, Walt—"

Her voice sounded the way he felt, and the sensory overload had him releasing some noises of his own. "Ohhh—"

They held each other tight as they came together, Walt's lips against the side of Vic's neck and the fingernails of one of her hands digging into the small of his back in a bid to keep him as close as possible. Walt was buried in her, flexing and circling his hips as she ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair and whispered his name through the haze of aftershocks.

Consumed and completely spent they collapsed in a sweaty heap, breathing disconnected nothings as they wound their limbs around each other and settled beneath the covers. Walt realized that everything was a bit damp and sticky, but sometimes love was messy as hell and you just had to go with it. Vic didn't seem to mind, turning in his arms and greeting him with a blissed-out smile as she stroked her fingers over his stubble-rough cheek.

"I think I could get used to this," she muttered against his shoulder, kissing the skin there.

Walt ran a hand through Vic's hair, working out a couple tangles and stroking the back of her neck as she nestled against him. He was exhausted, but for the first time in as long as he could remember it was a _good_ feeling. Grinning as her arm settled across his torso, Walt allowed his eyes to drift shut.

"Yep…"

It was the last word either of them spoke for a long while, both falling into a euphoric slumber.

**x**

When Walt woke next, the illumination outside was fading fast and he was alone in bed. As he rose from the clutches of sleep, he realized there was no reason to panic as warm light was filtering through the slightly open bedroom door and he could hear clattering and swearing coming from the direction of the kitchen.

_Vic. _

To think it had been barely twenty-four hours since they embarked on the operation that changed everything. Walt allowed himself a moment to stretch his limbs, luxuriating in the disheveled state of the bedclothes and the scattered pillows that surrounded him. It was so different from the usual neat state of his bed, indisputable concrete evidence of how the whirlwind that was Vic had swept through and shook up his life.

He exhaled slowly, levering himself into a seated position and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. There was an oddly agreeable soreness in a few muscles he'd nearly forgotten existed, and Walt reasoned that if this was going to be his new normal he would need to step up his physical game— maybe he'd start taking Henry up on his offers to go running after all.

There was another muffled curse from the kitchen, so Walt stood and looked around the room. Retrieving his discarded jeans from the floor near the foot of the bed, he slipped his lower body into the denim and did up the buttons, feeling an increasingly familiar twinge as he remembered Vic's heated confession of finding button-fly jeans 'sexy as hell.'

Padding barefoot into the main living area of the cabin Walt stopped and leaned against the wall at the meeting point of the sitting room and the kitchen, taking in the vision that greeted him. _Speaking of sexy…_

Vic was bustling around the kitchen, wearing— as far as he could tell— nothing but his discarded snap-front shirt. She'd pulled her hair into a sloppy sideways ponytail, and she appeared to have scattered the entire contents of his refrigerator and cabinets onto the small amount of usable counter space.

There were a couple pans on the stove top, one emitting the unmistakeable and hunger-enhancing scent of bacon. Vic leaned over, stretching to sprinkle something into the other skillet. Cinnamon, maybe? She spotted Walt out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't you ever buy fucking groceries? You're lucky you had all the ingredients for French Toast, or I would have sent you to the store with or without your shirt."

He walked up behind her, sweeping the ponytail out of the way and sliding one arm around her waist. "My shirt looks busy." Kissing the back of Vic's neck and lightly scraping his teeth over the skin behind her ear, Walt smiled as she leaned into the embrace. "This is quite the new look you're trying out."

Pulling his arm tighter around her waist, Vic leaned her head against his shoulder. "You think so? I'm going undercover as the sheriff's love slave. I hear he likes blondes."

"Only the mouthy Italian ones." Walt wrapped his other arm around Vic, running his hands over the curves of her body through the weathered denim of his shirt. God, he never wanted to stop touching her.

Vic shivered, arching into his hands and making a pleased purring noise. "I'll show you mouthy—"

The bacon made a popping sound, sizzling insistently in the pan and breaking the seductive trance. Vic jumped, laughing as she turned in Walt's arms and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, _I am so hungry.__" _

Walt found himself laughing as well, kissing her lightly as he grasped her shoulders and turned her back toward the stove. He helped her finish getting everything ready, locating the plates and cutlery and even rooting around to find some maple syrup that Cady had left in the fridge after one of their pancake-infused father/daughter visits.

As Vic smiled at him across the small kitchen table, tearing into her plate of French Toast with unmistakable relish, Walt felt an amazing sense of lightness. He raised an eyebrow as he felt her foot sneaking its way inside the bottom of his pants leg beneath the table, her big toe gently stroking the sensitive skin of his inner ankle. The corners of his mouth turned up as he continued to watch her, chewing his bacon thoughtfully.

After eating in companionable silence for several minutes, Vic put down her fork.

"Walt?"

He was swallowing his last piece of French Toast. "Mmm?"

Vic bit her lip, a nervous gesture. She peered briefly down at her plate before lifting her head and holding his gaze. "Thanks."

"For what?" He was genuinely curious, tilting his head and laying his hands palm down on the table between them.

She reached across and pulled one of his hands into both of her own, caressing his palm and his knuckles with her soft fingers. Vic shrugged in reply, hesitating slightly. "For all of this. For letting me in. For… loving me."

The openness of her words made Walt realize that although he may be terrible at undercover, he had spent a lot of time in the past few years concealing how he felt, far too much time lying to himself or keeping his emotions buried deep down inside. The clear and steady affection in Vic's green and gold flecked eyes was like a light shining into the dark places.

"I should be the one thanking you."

They stayed just like that for a while, untroubled and hopelessly smitten, and Walt knew that he was done with all the hiding. The only covers he had any intention of being under for the foreseeable future were the ones keeping both of them warm, with Vic curled safe and happy in his arms.

**xxxxx  
><strong>**xxxxx**

_Wow, it's really finished! I had never intended for this story to be so long, which is something that seems to happen to me way too often. Haha! Hope it turned out alright; drop a review and let me know how you liked it._

_Looks as though it's time to go back and raid the Walt/Vic idea pile. Not sure what I'll write next or when it'll appear, but the list is long and I seem to be head over heels for this pairing. I'm sure you'll here more from me soon! :D_


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